


Knosp

by kaliforniabird



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Romance, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-21 08:42:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13737246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaliforniabird/pseuds/kaliforniabird
Summary: KNOSP / (NOSP): (noun) the unopened bud of a flower(semi-reboot of Midnight Pomegranate) - spoilers for manga chapters 87+(alternative manga chapter 87 ending) Shiemi Moriyama makes the decision to stay in the program to become an exorcist, but she must train harder in order to contain the power unlocking itself inside her. She turns to her friends and comrades for help, but as time goes on, she finds herself avoiding Rin more and more. What are these feelings she has for him? Does he still feel the same way? Just what is the power that continues to grow inside of her, and why is Amaimon so intrigued by it? And just what is going on between Izumo and Shima?





	1. smoke

**Author's Note:**

> I've been revamping Midnight Pomegranate off and on for a couple of years. I originally wrote that first draft when I was fifteen, and then again at seventeen. Guess what? I'm twenty-one now, super fucking old to a lot of you out there, but damn, college doesn't let you have much time to yourself or interests, especially as a Graphic Design major.
> 
> But that's enough about me. You're here for the story, aren't you? 
> 
> I was really frustrated how I made Shiemi out to be a weak damsel-in-distress in the first couple of versions of Midnight Pomegranate, but some people still like that first draft, so I'll keep it up if for nothing else than to show my growth. Reading up on these chapter updates for Blue Exorcist and participating in theory brainstorm sessions in the comments on the reddit for Blue-/Ao no Exorcist, I started to reimagine what my story could look like, especially in showing Shiemi's new strength and hidden potential. I'll be shoving an alternate ending on my own version of events and how shit could go down for this manga, but I'll include details from the ongoing chapters from the canon source that produce different outcomes based on my own perception of how the characters could react instead to my own different events.
> 
> That being said, I'm really hyped to see what made Shiemi decide to quit her training as an exorcist in the manga after hearing her mother out. I think it would have to be pretty big considering all the work Shiemi went through to become stronger and to have to break her promise to Rin. I suspect it likely endangers her friends somehow if she continues the path to becoming an exorcist, though I don't know for sure.
> 
> Thus, here's my take on it. Shiemi stays in cram school because she wants to defy whatever fate may fall upon her or her friends much like Rin has throughout the story and continue to become stronger, and staying is her best option in achieving that.
> 
> Side note as well, rating on this may change depending on the direction I want to take it. I know for sure I want to make this pretty dramatic in terms of violence and horror because we are dealing with demons here.
> 
> The first chapter's title is inspired by the song "Smoke" by the artist/band PVRIS (pronounced "Paris").

A storm was coming, he knew, and not just because the sky seemed to tell them so.

She was pulling her hair back, raking her fingers through the blonde strands while the hair tie was caught between her primly pursed lips. He admired the way her muscles strained as she twisted the ponytail expertly, and he idly wondered if she was aware of the newfound tone in her arms, or of the twinge of pride he felt for her, knowing those new shadows gracefully sculpting her arms were the result of several months of additional exercise she’d put in.

Ever since the licensing exams were announced, Shiemi had been studying harder and pushing herself further and further in her training. Rin didn’t think it had much to do with the exams themselves than some other motivation she had deigned not to mention to him. He’d been wanting to ask her about it some time, but it wasn’t an urgent thing. After all, it was a good thing for her to be working so hard…wasn’t it?

Okay, so it bothered him a little bit. She didn’t really talk to him anymore though was the thing, so who could blame him for being a little wary when it came to her reasoning?

He was glad though that Shiemi had asked him to be her sparring partner. He wasn’t so sure that it was only her family’s—well, more just her mother’s—exorcist supply shop, or even the side business venture she’d recently gotten into thanks to Konekomaru’s urging after developing an ecommerce app and website for her when Shiemi had expressed wanting to help protect the general population from demons with her family’s shop supplies. She’d gotten really good at doing pressed herbs and flowers, especially with glass. The four-leaf clovers she’d made for her classmates for Christmas had only been the beginning.

The kind of ornaments she crafted were very pretty on their own, but their purpose was even more appreciated by those who bought and collected them. It kept the usual onslaught of demonic pests at bay, a thing which was harder to come by these days due to the new emergence of afflicted citizens. Those who could see and interact with the “antisocial organisms,” as they were referred to by the media, were more a common crowd. Demand was high and supply was low, so Shiemi could charge whatever she liked for her effective products.

But then again, that wasn’t her. She was kind by nature and generous when it came to discounts despite the already fair prices. Her reputation lent to a large and loyal customer base, who eschewed other similar more expensive products on the market and promoted her brand with showers of praises for the craftmanship and care she put in. Her fans flourished in number exponentially every day because of it, and of course her workload grew consequently. Shiemi was under a lot of pressure and stress trying to keep up with the orders, so she enlisted the help of her friends when they offered.

Rin himself would often take it upon himself to deliver the packages to the post office. He’d admire the way Shiemi had wrapped it with twine and decorative paper like gifts. Her handwriting wasn’t the best he’d seen, but it was better than his and held a certain charm to it—an imperfection that was flawed but altogether human and real.

Her personality was reflected in her work. He saw that when he delivered those parcels and smelled the earthy scent of herbs that wafted softly from its contents. He could see it in the four-leaf clover charm she’d given him and the others. His own hung on the one of the side posts of his standing mirror. Sometimes at night when he couldn’t sleep but didn’t want to get up and disturb Yukio, his eyes would wander across the room until they found that telltale moonlight glinting off a little glass vial, the clover almost gray in the darkness. Rin’s gaze would settle there for a few moments, thinking of Father Fujimoto, of simpler times with just the three of them and the monastery. His heart ached still for the past, but he was determined to move forward with the future.

The future he looked ahead to involved his friends and their bonds. They were a lot of his motivation and a source of strength for him. Revenge alone would bring closure, but the purpose protection brought with having those close bonds constantly made him push himself harder.

Maybe that was why Shiemi was here now. For the same reason he was.

* * *

 

Thunder roiled in the vagrant night sky as their weapons clashed in mere flutters of the eye, a shutter-click of the camera flash—gleaming silver steel twisted with fire the color of a summer sky straining against carefully tempered wood. The two figures engaged in their private dance of lithe and graceful acrobatic movements were too preoccupied to pay the ill-omened weather any mind, let alone exchange words—only blows.

Sweat climbed steadily down the young woman’s temple and down the bridge of her nose as evidence of the tension she felt—tension that was mirrored in the lines of the young man’s face across from her, the way his jaw cut the darkness in a clenched jut of white, the tendons and veins that bulged prominently under the pressure he enforced upon them.

Shiemi’s grip tightened in apprehension while her arms shook in their hold against Rin’s  _katana_  sword with her branch-like staff of Australian buloke wood. It helped that he’d flipped his blade so that the dull side faced her to prevent any potentially serious wounds, but she saw that little mischievous spark in his eyes—a telltale sign that he was about to unleash his attack, and she needed to act quickly and accordingly.

Cerulean flames shone against Shiemi's eyes like flickering fireflies; she’d been right about his intentions to attack. She summoned an earthen fortification against the blue fire brimming the darkness, swelling fast towards her, even as her chest heaved and her throat greedily sucked for air. The fire was eating up any available oxygen around her in its swift approach. The meager defense the rammed wall offered wouldn’t last for long, but at least it was something against the lethal onslaught Rin rained down.

She tensed against the lapping heat swarming her, sweat careening down her brow and into her eyes where the drops stung and clouded her vision like tears. She felt streams of it dot her lashes as she fought to blink them out of her gaze, swiping the back of her hand across her forehead and shoving away her sticky bangs from her flushed face. The short rocky barrier offered temporary reprieve before the summon crumbled before her, baked into a brittle dust by her adversary’s fire.

The added aid of Nee-chan’s magic—a pleasantly surprising amount of magic for such a small, spritely green spirit—notwithstanding, Shiemi was beginning to feel the effects of the long and difficult fight.

Her hands were raw and dirt-scraped from catching herself more than a few times from falling; her limbs felt as if all but a few drops of blood were drained out of them. She grit her teeth as her arms hung at her sides and tingled painfully. She knew it was because she had strained too hard, had pushed her muscles too far, and now they were painfully tight from the abuse she had put them through.

Even her skin and clothes had not escaped harm and were torn and littered with grass stains and mud. Mild scrapes from landing on concrete and asphalt left a series of gashes streaking her flesh. Small bruises had given her spots to match the stripes and were quickly becoming large, painful knots.

Yet, she ducked her head and dug her heels into the earth against the hot, forceful winds that came in waves stirred and driven by the molten heat eager in the blue fire. Her body wilted with fatigue and seemed ready to collapse, but her determination held strong.

_Not yet,_ she thought.  _I won’t give up just yet._

Shiemi pursed her lips and clenched her hands into fists at her sides, trying to work the feeling back into them. She squinted into the wind and heat, damp eyelids heavy in her weariness. But her irises blazed a vibrant green freckled with pale fire in the gloom of the stormy night.

Her resolve to become stronger overpowered the need for rest. She wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ —quit now. She needed to be pushed to her limits—and beyond, if possible. She had labored long and hard for this moment. No, she would not be a coward. She refused to sell herself so short as to waste everything she’d worked for until now.

She had to prove herself. Shiemi wanted—no, she  _needed_ —him to see that she was a worthy opponent. By the heavens above, her muscles ached, but she had wretchedly  _ached_ for this moment to come.

Her mind reeled back to the bet she’d made with Rin. There was just too much at stake. The cost of losing this match would do more than just damage her chances at getting stronger; it was something she absolutely could not afford to lose.

Shiemi searched the sky for the not-quite-a-boy-and-not-quite-a-man that was her sparring partner. Her eyes landed instantly on him, wreathed as he was in his cursed flames. She took note of the whirlwind that held him suspended above and slightly to the left of her—a move he’d only just perfected two months ago when he’d discovered that he could create a miniature twister using the heat from his flames to stir the air much like the way he would stir straw-like noodles into limp resignation. It was just like how he would cook, too: meticulous in his practice but made to look effortless by his ease of movement.

When she looked at him, Shiemi thought he could’ve been an angel, so divine did he look towering above the earth with his beautiful fire curling and breaking like ocean waves against his skin and the air pirouetting gracefully around him, stirring his clothes and hair gently. But his sharp, serrated teeth; his imp-like ears; his pointed nails hooking his fingers into claws; his long, sable tail; and the horns blazing upwards from his forehead all conjured an image of a dragon from a few of the fairy tales her grandmother had told her as a child.

He might’ve looked every bit of a half-demon and then some, but to her and their friends, he was a foil to every one of the malicious characters they’d had the luck of facing so far in their path of becoming exorcists. Rin could be an utter brute and a buffoon sometimes; he could be unruly in his habits and appearance to the point of being downright sloppy.

But so was he also compassionate and selfless, and a kind, loyal friend. He was the villain dancing to the hero’s tune because conventionality was never something that Rin had aimed for when he had set his sights on becoming an exorcist while knowing very well that the enemy he swore to annihilate had fathered him, that his heart, filled with a yearning for compassion to give and receive alike, pumped the blood of the deity of evil that reviled humanity through his body. He was comfortable looking a criminal—it had always been a part of him—but never playing the part. She knew it killed him inside to hurt others and could never truly belong in the ranks of such vile company.

He may have been the dragon, but so, too, was he the knight.

* * *

 

Seeing the thrill of the fight thrumming through her body as she grinned haughtily back at him with each resulting victory on her side in their game was an unbelievably big turn on for Rin Okumura. This was simultaneously an issue and wasn’t one, depending. In and of itself, arousal was a pleasant feeling, one that Rin would typically welcome with open arms should he have been alone and could take care of it for himself. It was at times like the present, however, when he wasn’t alone, that it was a curse.

He could feel his blood start to pound in his veins and begin to rush towards that damned point of interest between his hips. Color stained his cheeks at the thought of Shiemi noticing his compromised state. He sneered at the thought of her disgust and rejection, his eyebrows clenched together and clamping down heavy over his dark eyes. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He couldn’t afford for her to notice.

Harshly, he pushed away thoughts of ending the fight prematurely and pushing her to the ground and pinning her there with his attentive hands, lips and hips mashing against one another alike, chests pressed together like desperate palms held in prayer, fingers raking through each other’s hair.

_Fuck!_

He roared, angrily shoving down every one of those forbidden daydreams. Now was the time to focus solely on the fight, not fantasize about one of his sexy female classmates!

To help soothe his ire, Rin reflected on Shiemi’s progress throughout the ordeal, remembering how her smiles had slowly replaced her cries of protest and frustration.

He grinned despite himself. She was getting better. Slowly, but surely, Shiemi was coming into her own. She would be formidable in her own right.

_It’s true,_ he thought. When they had started their match, Shiemi had foolishly scrambled about in the open, running on pure instinct and trying in vain to escape his attacks, which had only left her needlessly exhausted and little to no effort spent on his side. He could’ve been taking a nap and chasing Kuro in his dreams for all the difficulty or lack thereof she gave him.

_C’mon_ , he’d thought.  _Quit playing the defense like you always do. You’ve got no one to back up but yourself now. You have to_ fight back.

He’d had no choice but to push her over the edge, and had almost ruthlessly exploited each and every one of her weaknesses, starting with the openings she’d left in her defense, which wasn’t difficult at all considering she’d only appeared to be actively protecting her head and torso, most likely because of a natural reflex. Everything else had been thoughtlessly left vulnerable.

Though, to be fair, Rin had called out to her before any one of his attacks, so that she at least had the advantage of a heads up. The moments between he’d left for her to quickly think of a course of action to take.

Before long, Shiemi had realized she could dodge  _and_  simultaneously launch one of her own attacks back at him. Then, of course, from there on she had improved steadily in her thinking and fighting. She held her ground now, strategized and remained efficient in her darting away from the keen inferno when Rin would compromise her position. She conserved her energy and spent it as economically as possible.

—And at some point in between, she’d come to grasp the concept of baiting and luring.

Shiemi had effectively cornered Rin twice (shit!), and though he had eventually escaped both times from her aptly named root, devil’s snare, it had taken him long enough that had it been a real battle, Rin doubted his adversary would be polite enough to wait for him to break free.

_She’s good_ , he’d thought with both pride for his sparring partner and in chastisement of himself for letting his guard down.  _She even got me to expend a good amount of my energy._ He’d underestimated her.

He wasn’t so careless to make the same mistake a third time. Though Rin had wasted a good portion of his power, he still had more than enough to end the match in his favor—if he used it wisely.

After he’d managed to avoid another two of Shiemi’s attempts to trap him, Rin decided he’d kick things up a notch.

He increased his speed subtly, only just picking up the pace with which he engaged Shiemi in combat so as not to overwhelm her, but merely enough to give her a challenge in discerning his movements with sometimes only an instant for her to react in time to the renewed strength behind his blows.

* * *

 

Rin pushed her to the edge of her abilities, and Shiemi was beginning to grow desperate. She was on the brink of defeat, barely managing to block the attacks her opponent threw at her with particular tenacity, her reserves for any potential spells bleeding dry.

_I was in over my head_ , she thought, her body surging forward in submission to gravity and pushing off at the last moment in a small burst of speed to save herself from a potentially nasty hit Rin threw her way.  _I was never a match. I’m weak._

_**I’m going to lose.** _

The thought twisted through her like a knife. Shiemi faltered, and in dropping her guard, was on the receiving end of a sharp blow to her stomach by the flat of Rin’s sword. She flew backwards and stumbled as she tried to straighten her stance. Her matted bangs hung in her weary eyes, but there was a stubborn tilt to her mouth that made Rin continue his assault, though with some pause.

_**If I lose… I** _ _**can’t** _ _**lose. If I lose, then it’ll all be for** _ _**nothing** _ _**.** _

_Rin and Yukio standing together off to the side when she apologized to her mother, the brothers each smiling softly in their own way. They were happy then. Content. There was an unspoken comradery there that had been broken and refashioned together, where a fragile new bond grew in the spaces between “just brothers.” She thought it looked a little like respect._

_That bond she tried so hard to replicate with Izumo, only to realize theirs was a unique sort of bond, not dissimilar to the twins and their begrudging mutual admiration because that was Izumo down to a tee. The girl’s approval was hard-earned and her friendship even harder earned._ _“I’ll protect you,”_ _Izumo had told her in the roundabout way because her morals dictated it. Not because she wanted to. Not because she liked the too-nice blonde weakling girl._ _“I’m going to save you,”_ _Shiemi had replied, and she had indeed saved Izumo in more ways than one. Her friend’s encouragement in Shiemi’s frequent moments of doubt._

_“You’re strong,”_ _she said, her eyes fixed on Shiemi sternly._ _“You’re going to make a great exorcist one day.”_

Her mother in the supply shop, beckoning her to the kitchen. _“We need to talk,”_ she said. _“There’s something I have to tell you.”_  The words that followed that had torn her world apart and stolen the ground beneath her feet.

_**I don’t want to know!**_ Powerlessness and fear gave way to an abrupt thrill of dangerous exhilaration. It became a surge of raw power that rioted through her system in an intoxicating mixture of pain and pleasure.

It was as if she were dying of thirst only to have a waterfall rain down upon her with a triumphant roar to replenish her from the inside out. It geysered outward in a blur of energy that overwhelmed Shiemi with the force of its strength, and she felt as if her cells were beginning to unravel with each passing second it remained inside of her. It took everything she had for her to clamp down onto it and bend it to her will, funneling it into a single command, a single unwitting intention born out of pure instinct.

_“Stop!”_ The word was torn from her throat, and, in turn, the energy was ripped from her body, leaving her insides feeling raw and exposed as her skin steamed from the heat generated.

A song filled her, bursting with a yearning sort of quality and too low to hear with her human ears, but loud enough for it to echo through her bones hollowly in an unexpectedly pleasant way that fortified her.

Shiemi thought she’d been blinded, but only when she finally brought a hand to her face to feel for any damage did she realize that, no, she wasn’t blind—she’d merely closed her eyes from the strain of containing the energy that had churned angrily within her.

Upon slowly opening them, she was surprised to find relative quiet and darkness before fully scanning her surroundings with a wary sweeping glance.

It was much like a flatter kind of basket that pulsed in a strange fashion before her, and it was so large and overwhelming that at first, she wasn’t sure what it was until closer inspection revealed that it was a shield crafted from intertwining tree branches and other flora acting as a reinforced glue. The vibrations it emitted were so fast it was merely a constant hum, and upon examining the edges of it, Shiemi came to the conclusion that the thing was rotating so quickly that her eye registered only the slightest blur to the outer rim of it.

But what surprised her most of all about the shield was that it was familiar in its signature aura that she’d recognize as belonging to the earthen realm, much like her little sprite Nee-chan. Yet, if that were true, it would mean that the power that had surged up from within her had summoned that beast of a thing.

Where on earth had all that power come from?

* * *

 

Rin had faltered when he’d managed to land a hit on Shiemi using the blunt side of his katana ( _oh shit_ ,  _oh shit_ , he hadn’t meant to actually hurt her, god forbid he  _hurt_ her! Shiemi!), but had continued, albeit hesitantly, when he received a glare so intense it seemed to burn right through him. He had full on pulled back from his assault when the air around her started to spark and shimmer with intense heat.

When she screamed, it tore at his heart in the worst possible way. The sound of it was gut-wrenching in its desperation and sadness, as if Shiemi had given up everything that had had any meaning to her just so that some sort of agony would cease its torture of her poor soul.

“Stop!” was the word she’d screamed, but where was she directing the command? It didn’t sound as if she were speaking to Rin, but more as if she was voicing a thought that was aimed at herself in something like frustration, much like the glare she’d given him earlier hadn’t really landed on Rin. It was like she were staring beyond him at something else.

Yet, those suspicions aside, he obeyed her command long enough for a particularly complex spell to be cast by Shiemi. He suspected the summon had been unintentional for she hadn’t called out any other words that resembled an invocation outside of her last outburst. Despite this fact, she’d conjured a  ~~generously-sized~~ —scratch that, more like massive to the point of absurdity—shield of hardy vegetation that braided itself in a labyrinthine pattern. It cast a heavy shadow in spite of the storm’s overcast sky. Something like dread filled his stomach as he realized the darkness was threatening Rin in an eerie show of dominance.

“Shiemi?” he called to her, cupping a hand to the side of his mouth to magnify his voice. Hopefully it could reach from behind the huge fucking  _wall_  (seriously,  _holy shit_  Shiemi) that stood between them. “Are you okay?!”

“Yeah!” Her response sounded dazed, but the relief that flooded him was immediate. “I’m okay! Let’s keep going!”

The resolve in her voice had Rin smirking. Damn, that girl was something else! Shiemi was just so  _strong_ , so  _brave_ , so  _kind_ , so  _gods-damned_   _beautiful_ …

He allowed his thoughts to trail off into the back of his mind as he focused on the monstrosity of a barrier that stood between him and the girl of his dreams. He promised himself that he’d ask her about the strange display of power that had occurred later, but decided their match, and consequently their little bet, took priority for now.

Rin threw his best into his attacks and growled in frustration at the results, or lack thereof. Whenever he’d managed to damage it, the damn shield would quickly repair itself as the plants grew back into place just as they were before, as if it had never been touched.

_What the hell?_

He paused long enough that when Rin strained his ears, he could pick up a low frequency hum the shield itself emitted. Curious, he leapt closer, resorting to using himself as a projectile in an admittedly overly eager attempt to penetrate the thick weave of shrubbery.

He launched himself feet first, reasoning that this was safest. After all, head-first would be foolhardy if it so happened that the impact ricocheted against him; he was rather protective of his brain cells and his (what he deemed semi-attractive) face. One could say he’d learned this fact a few too many times before, in spite of having quite literally a thick skull.

Rin let the surprise show in his expression as his feet made harsh contact with the shield’s convex surface. He could feel something electric travel up his legs and to his torso and finally his head. The sensation blurred his vision and dizzied him as it threw off his equilibrium.

The shield  _vibrated_ , he realized too late. And  _spun_.

The half-demon kicked off seemingly as soon as his feet had alighted atop the surface, using Shiemi’s shield as a makeshift bounding pad of sorts and landed unsteadily a few yards away. In the chill air his breaths came in quick, vaporous clouds made tangible by the cold. Rain began to fall slowly, dripping into the dry soil, which drank up the moisture greedily.

Feeling his nose running from the cool air, Rin reached up and swiped it with the back of his hand and wrist, only to pull away and find blood smeared over his skin instead of watery mucus.

_What..?_

His eyes widened in sudden understanding, even as his brain began shimmering inside his skull, bright lights exploding like stars behind his eyes and dizzying him.  _The shield_ , he thought dazedly.  _The vibrations are a lot stronger than I’d realized._

At that precise moment, Rin collapsed to his knees. He closed his eyes against the vertigo that assaulted him and pressed his hands to the sides of his head to no avail as he keeled sideways to the rain-dampened ground. His stomach twisted with nausea, and, too soon, Rin had only just managed to clamber to his hands and knees to retch onto the dirt below him.

He lowered himself to his elbows as saliva continued to dribble from his mouth and chin. There were tears at the corners of his eyes that had come from the force of his body purging itself of his stomach contents. Rin panted, fighting to gain control of himself.

This battle was not over yet.

* * *

 

Shiemi had felt Rin attacking her shield from every which way, and despite having summoned the impressive defense at the cost of the very last dregs of her and Nee-chan’s remaining power, she couldn’t help the prideful feelings for its extraordinary effectiveness even against the likes of a half-demon – and the son of Satan, too, at that. It not only held up against his onslaught of flames, but it had also healed itself when Rin’s inferno managed to burn through.

She became in tune with its own pulsing life energy, a sort of hum that buzzed through her limbs comfortingly—yet another advantage to this costly defense: its vibrations were strong enough to deflect many physically dense attacks back at their owner.

The only thing sustaining her was the droning feedback of her shield. It was a miracle that she managed to stay standing.

But at the sound of Rin heaving, only just discernable from the drizzling rain, another kind of energy spurred her into action.

Shiemi immediately dropped her shield, surging forward when her summon and Nee-chan dissipated in a vaporous cloud. Through the haze of rain, she could make out the form of the teenaged boy folded close to the near-muddy ground on his knees and elbows, his head hanging despondently between his arms.

“Rin!” she called. This new frantic energy pushed her, filling her with an overwhelming anxiety. What had _happened?_

“Rin!” Shiemi dropped to her knees beside Rin, bending over him, ready to help him to his feet, but she hesitated, hovering over his back as she stared down at him. Her hand reached over to his shoulder, the other instinctively pressing into the small of his back.

“Rin,” Shiemi whispered, and Rin heard the rising panic in her voice.

His ink-black hair hung limply in his face, curling slightly from the rain.  He was gaining back his senses relatively fast, most likely due to his inhuman half’s heritage, but he was using his condition to his advantage.

Perhaps this wasn’t the most honorable way to win a match, but he couldn’t help but feel a little mischievous whenever Shiemi was involved. He was playing dirty, but Rin had to show her that just because she was up against the likes of him didn’t mean that her future foes would fight fair.

And then there was that bet.

* * *

 

When Rin felt Shiemi’s hands on him, not gentle like he expected her to be, but rather strong and steady, he involuntarily let out a deep shiver. Her touch told him that she was prepared to support him should he lose consciousness. Her concern and determination to protect him flooded Rin with a dozen emotions, most notably affection. All the feelings he’d managed to suppress came rushing back at a shamefully alarming rate. He forced himself to focus on the task at hand, but he unwittingly held onto the feeling of companionship and dearness he felt for her selfishly.

It made him feel regretful for what he was about to do.

Rin made himself pliant under her, succumbing to the pressure she carefully exerted on him. Shiemi pushed on him until he was forced to lie on his back. She had shifted her hold on his shoulder to cradle the base of his skull, steadying his head for him. The back of her hand was painted with mud. Rin had felt her fingers curl and graze his neck as she gingerly removed them from under him. The very tips of her fingers had trailed lightly up behind his ear and over his jaw, and he’d shuddered again. He had to stare up at her by looking down his nose when she pulled away and sat back tiredly on her heels. It was then that he realized her defense had cost her a heavy price for its strength. Her summons had drained her dry before, and this last one had seemingly appeared in a last ditch effort her body had made in a panic, and the only thing keeping her moving now was adrenaline.

Concern stirred him. He knew he had to end this as soon as he could.

Shiemi, mistaking his trembling for something else, leaned forward, her face coming into view over him. “Rin? Are you okay? You’re shaking…what happened?”

Rin froze when his eyes met hers. He could feel himself floating up, up, up into them, ready to surrender himself to her. Why was she so caring? Especially for the likes of him? His tongue felt thick for more than one reason when he spoke. “Your shield. I kicked it. Vibrations did something to my head.”

Her look of concern turned into one of immense guilt. “Rin—"

Shiemi had felt something tickling one of her ankles, and up until that point, had assumed it was just a trickle of rain sitting in the indent above her ankle bone. But then the tickling sensation traced up her leg and to her knee—letting her know that this wasn’t rain at all. Something like a smooth rope snaked around her calf.

“Shiemi,” Rin whispered, his voice strangely tight. “I’m sorry for this.”

She could’ve blinked and missed everything as the world lurched around her. Albeit, in her torpid state, Shiemi couldn’t process that kind of speed even with her eyes wide open.

She’d been flipped onto her back next to Rin’s fallen form, her hips and shoulders making blunt contact with the earth before her head followed, rebounding slightly from the force. Her skull hit the ground hard and Shiemi found herself staring emptily up at the dreary sky. Raindrops landed on her cheeks with increasing speed.

“Shit!” Almost instantly Rin was on top of her, his body like a canopy saving her from the sudden downpour. It was as if the rain had decided then that this was the peak moment to fall full-force.

“How’s your head?” Rin asked. His expression looked remorseful. “I’m sorry,” he added after a moment of silence and repeating his apology. “I didn’t realize I’d spun you that hard.”

Shiemi’s eyes found Rin’s face, his words taking her a long few seconds to process before she realized what had happened, understanding only dawning on her after she dazedly watched Rin’s sinuous tail flick the air behind his body, water droplets issuing from the paintbrush-like end.

She wanted to be angry with him for cheating, but she couldn’t bring herself to be when her gaze drifted to the dried blood that stood out starkly from the boy’s fair skin, smudged around his nose and upper lip.

She wasn’t sure how she had missed it before. Maybe it had been her exhaustion or her adrenaline or even her relief when she realized Rin had been okay in the brief moment when she’d initially looked him over.

Her eyebrows knitted together of their own accord, and Rin was sure she was going to be cross with him. Why wouldn’t she be? He’d manipulated her with her own genuine and selfless feelings of concern for him and used her emotions against her.

When her hand slowly raised and cupped his cheek, his brain shut down. The look in her eyes had him confounded.

“You really  _were_  hurt?” she asked, referring to his bloody nose. She could feel a slight stubble brush back against her skin, and the itchy tickle of it made her stomach flip in giddiness.

Rin blinked at her.  _What?_  Was she still concerned for him after he’d rubbed that back in her face? How was that possible? How could anyone let their anger for someone fade so fast only to be replaced with compassion for that very same person? She _couldn’t_  possibly be human, though the body that molded solidly to his beneath him told him otherwise (dammit, he didn’t need those kind of thoughts right now!). Shiemi was just so dedicated, so transparent, so earnest in her actions. Everything about her screamed purity.

That innocence would be the death of him.

“I’m okay,” Rin said after a moment of regaining his composure. He wanted to keep her from worrying about him. He didn’t deserve it, and he knew it.  _Why doesn’t she see that?_  Nonetheless, he would do his best to reassure her. Despite his blushing, he fought the urge to frown at his own embarrassment and gave her a small smile. “You did a pretty big number on me back there, but I’m fine now.”

Shiemi’s hand fell away; Rin mourned its loss—the warmth and soothing contact had made him feel a strange but comfortable calm.

He watched intently as her fallen arm moved at her side, and her hand disappeared into her pocket. From it she withdrew an ornately embroidered square of pastel-colored cloth—a handkerchief.

Rin remained frozen as Shiemi wiped at the blood on his face with enough pressure to ensure the cloth came away more stained than his skin, but done so gingerly that not once did he flinch from pain.

When at last she pulled her hand away revealing red-dotted blue birds and ferns curling around the corners of the cloth, signaling she was finished, he smiled despite himself. Of course, Shiemi, of all people, would casually keep a fresh supply of handy handkerchiefs ready for emergencies in her pockets.

She offered a smile of her own, a far more brilliant and beautiful one than he could ever give her, and for that Rin smiled wider. The warmth he felt for her expanded, filling him until he was ready to burst.

Rin found himself laughing then—at himself, at her, at this moment. He laughed because he was happy and at peace. The feelings bubbled up and out of him in the form of laughter. Rin pressed his forehead to Shiemi’s as a gesture of immense affection when he heard her giggling with him.

It was too soon when the moment ended between them when they dared to raise their eyes and stare at one another in wonder and curiosity.

It was too easily this moment of innocent, chaste bliss slipped away when Shiemi realized their proximity, and all the penalties that came with that fact, such as the way her senses oddly tingled, hyperaware of his very presence.

His chest pressed against hers, and Shiemi could feel his heart hammering against her own frantic one. Her breathing increased dramatically; it seemed as if his chest was crushing hers now, but strangely, she didn't mind...

She shook her head forcefully at the insane thoughts, her skull knocking into something. It was then she noticed how his bare arms boxed in her head—and how one of his knees happened to land in between her legs when it brushed against her thigh in response. The action made her blush. Usually, just the very  _idea_  of someone being so close to the junction where her legs met would make her squirm quite uncomfortably, but her limbs were trapped, and she couldn't move.

The blonde felt warm breath on her face that made her shiver peculiarly. Rin's face was so utterly  _close_ to hers. She could see every detail in his dark sapphire eyes and count the black lashes, graze his expressive lips—

Her eyes flickered to his, and she inhaled sharply at what she thought she saw there.

An overwhelming tenderness seemed to reach out from the depths of his eyes and hold her in place, and not at all in an unpleasant way. There was searching in his eyes, and uncertainty. There was humbleness and a strange sort of sadness. Most of all, there was a question he seemed to be asking. A question meant for her.

Shiemi was overwhelmed with these feelings. What were they? What did they mean? She had no experience when it came to romance. She didn’t even have the usual references most people her age had come to know as common knowledge. No, she didn’t have any love stories to reflect on like in the movies and books. She didn’t have a phone, let alone Internet. How was she supposed to know? She was feeling around the emotion and the very concept blindly in the dark.

But she knew some things. She at least knew what kissing was, and understood biology and certain  _functions_ the human body used to procreate. Her mother had certainly talked about enough of the details of what a future marriage for her daughter would mean after Shiemi let her curiosity run wild on her when she was younger and her mother had indulged a little too much in the  _sake_.

So when Shiemi’s gaze almost imperceptibly shifted to Rin’s lips for the smallest moment, she gave her answer when she again caught Rin’s eyes that had noticed her turn in attention. It didn’t surprise her, seeing as how his powers would likely enhance many of his senses, especially those pertaining to battle survival—and perhaps most vitally, sight.

His own gaze shifted then to her lips, quickly flicking back up to hers. Again, the same question. Rin needed to be sure. There was no second-guessing this. He couldn’t be impulsive. This wasn’t one of his reckless battles.

This was Shiemi. This was one of his very first friends. This was one of his  _closest_ friends.

In response, Shiemi’s eyes fluttered closed, leaving herself vulnerable and open to him. It was a gesture of complete trust.

Again, the same answer.

If Rin had been surprised at her silent answer before, he was astounded at this reassurance. The utter confidence she held for him nearly broke Rin. It was such a humbling thing to have another person place their entire faith in oneself. He was left breathless with the knowledge.

Mind made up, and with Shiemi’s consent, Rin slowly lowered his head to just a hair’s breadth from her face.

Shiemi, with her eyes closed, felt Rin’s face hovering over her own. Rather than the claustrophobic feeling she’d originally anticipated, she felt sheltered beneath him. Had she opened her eyes, there would’ve been no room for distractions. Merely, there would’ve only been him and him alone with his attention rapt with her and her needs. Her world narrowed to just them—them and the heat of their bodies guarding against the chill permeating the night air and the rain that drenched their clothes.

Shiemi’s heart thrummed like the wings of a hummingbird. She was close to passing out from lack of oxygen; she was unwittingly holding her breath as if she could stop time at just this moment. She was scared and unprepared, yet she was wanting this—oh, by the gods and heavens above, she  _wanted this_. For a while now, these emotions had come to the forefront of her mind whenever she saw Rin. This overwhelming affection and anxiety for him had led to so many more random blushes where he was concerned. He’d confessed to her a year ago about his feelings of wanting to be more than friends for her, but she hadn’t been ready. She hadn’t even considered him in that way. Rin was just Rin to her.

Though that hadn’t stopped her from holding a special place for him in her heart. Rin had been the first to not coddle her when she became upset. He didn’t treat her like she was fragile and unknowingly belittle her in this way. No, he expected more of her. He was the first to treat her like her real age and not some fumbling child in an adult’s world. He was the first to make her feel like a woman by giving her the space she needed and pushing her when she was scared and force her to become more confident and stronger (and he was ensuring her happiness and autonomy all at once by doing so). He saw her as another vulnerable, but fierce player in this newfound, treacherous game.

He made her feel like a woman by  _desiring_  her. By confronting her about her feelings, he had unknowingly opened up a new train of thought for her, a new consideration because even though maybe his younger brother, Yukio, had feelings for her, he treated them as unwanted thoughts. And neither did Rin hold her at arm’s length because of his feelings, but he held her just as closely as he had before. Where Yukio was perhaps cooler and more polished, Rin was warm and real and natural.

Rin wasn’t patient when it came to most things. In fact, he could throw a downright tantrum in some cases. But when it came to others, he swallowed his pride and put aside his needs and wants because he truly did value the relationships he had with those people; he truly valued the people closest to him like his most precious treasure that he wouldn’t trade for the world. So while he had desired a different, more intimate relationship at the time with her, and while he had initially been disappointed, he had brushed aside his own feelings of hurt and remained thankful for her friendship. He hadn’t been resentful in the slightest and had continued to treat her just as he had before.

She hadn’t realized how difficult that could be for someone until she realized her own feelings a little while later. Sure, she had known she held Rin in a somewhat different regard from her other friends. It had been obvious when she’d rejected Rin so long ago, when she had wanted so badly to ask him to wait for her because she wasn’t ready, she wasn’t mature enough, she couldn’t match him just yet as his equal in this regard. But she had refrained, pursing her mouth tightly closed to keep the words from escaping.

She didn’t want to make him wait for her. Wasn’t that just cruel like the books Izumo had lent her had said? What if she decided she didn’t like him after all? What if she made him wait so long that he felt obligated to his feelings for her and didn’t allow himself to have those feelings for someone else, maybe someone who treasured him more than herself? What if his feelings weren’t that serious? After all, he’d only just turned sixteen a couple of months later. They were so young and the world was still so big.

But slowly, even as the date of his confession grew ever more distant from the present, her feelings for him grew. Soon, she was longing for him so often that he was on her mind nearly always—sometimes only at the back of her thoughts, but enough that her daydreams and wondering things would always come full circle back to him.

There were shameful nights where she positively ached for him and especially his physical presence. She found her hormones would absolutely sing at their highest notes possible at these times as she lay in the dark under her covers, staring up at the ceiling above her bed mournfully.

Were these thoughts okay? Were they allowed? What even were they? Because while affection and tenderness reminiscent of romantic and even platonic love would sweep in around her, there was always a darker and heavier presence that lurked beneath and overwhelmed her. They were deeply physical and carnal in how they negatively seemed to affect her. Possessiveness, heat, and a closeness so crushing she couldn’t breathe were things that she felt at these times.

Sometimes, if she cried, it would be enough of a release to abate the aches that plagued her on those nights. On others, she was not so lucky, and shamefully crept a hand under her nightgown and clenched her thighs together. Afterwards, she would thank the heavens that she had stubbornly taken up residence in the room above the garden shed for much different reasons than she had originally intended. But then she would blush in humility at the thought of her grandmother and doing such inappropriate things where she used to live.

At that low point, she had come to think that Rin didn’t like her in that way anymore, if not for the time that had passed between her rejection and present day that would naturally soften any previous convictions he’d had about her or the likelihood that time had made him change his mind about her, then it would be the reaction he’d have if he still had these romantic feelings and ever knew of the thoughts and actions that took place during her most vulnerable nights. She knew he’d be repulsed and she couldn’t bear the thought of it.

And it was why this moment was pure torture for her.

Their lips were about to touch, the very edges of their sensitive flesh grazing like the most tempting of itches when there was a sound like the world ending.


	2. something good can work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll have to be patient with me, but I'm laying groundwork for this setup by jumping a little on the timeline. Then again, this chapter is a little shorter.
> 
> The title for this one is taken from "Something Good Can Work" by Two Door Cinema Club.

Thunder boiled the tempestuous air, screaming in a vengeance as a tree eight hundred yards away was struck by a forked tongue of liquid white fire. The explosion in sound that resulted was deafening and left both Rin’s and Shiemi’s ears ringing as if a bomb had detonated next to them.

They both flew a few feet in the air, their newfound temporarily airborne positions a reaction more to the sound out of fear than the physical impact of the lightning itself.

Shiemi had let loose a high-pitched sound between a squeal and a scream as her body instinctually arced up off the ground and her arms and legs clutched at Rin for comfort.

Rin yelped, but had instinctually caught Shiemi as she shot up an impressive height from the ground into his arms. She clung to him, trying to catch the breaths stolen away by shock.

A new kind of adrenaline rampaged through their systems now; one contrived through primordial survival instincts. This was teeth-gnashing anxiety. This was a feral reaction, nothing like that pleasant sort of anticipation that had turned time to molasses around them before. What coursed through their veins now was lightning where there had once been fire.

Their hormones dampened, Rin continued to hold Shiemi to steady both her and himself.

“You okay?” he mumbled against the side of her head. His tail came around his front and under Shiemi, wrapping securely around her waist in a gesture he meant to be comforting.

Shiemi didn’t show how she basked in the touch of his tail roping around her middle and strapping her to him even closer than his arms already held her. Instead, she nodded, managing to regulate her breathing despite the rekindling of the emotions which had coursed full-force through her only moments before. “I’m okay.”

Rin sighed, resting his chin over the top of her head, stirring the stray hairs over her scalp and making her shiver. He glanced up at the sky, taking due note of its citrine color and the way the clouds churned. “This storm’s a bad one.”

“Yeah,” Shiemi replied absently, able to see just past his shoulder the lighting that continuously shattered the thick blanket of thunderheads with an absent stare. She was too busy reveling in the comfort she felt there in Rin’s arms despite the usual anxiety that accompanied her whenever she was in his presence.

“Guess we’d better get inside and dried off before we catch pneumonia,” he continued, reluctantly releasing her from his grip. He decided he’d treat the moment before like it hadn’t happened for now so they could focus on other more important things like their health. “Yukio’s out on a mission at the moment, so we’ll be alone in my dorm if that’s alright with you?”

She stepped back a few paces from him, nodding again and avoiding his eyes, a blush beginning to dust her cheeks. “My mother will be worried if we wait too long. I should be getting back soon.”

And then there was that. “Sure,” Rin tossed over his shoulder as they began to make their way to his dormitory to clean up.

* * *

 

Two weeks ago, the afternoon sun beat down on them heavily after yet another intense training session that was more cathartic than productive. Shiemi had gathered up the courage to attempt to improve her fighting skills at last. Enough was enough. Ever since their last encounter with Amaimon in the school hallways a year or less ago, Shiemi had begun to train hard on her off times when she wasn’t helping her mother with the shop, gardening, studying, or with her friends. Occasionally, Izumo would join her, and they’d spar—almost always ending in a draw after a time. In acknowledgement of this new dilemma, they had resorted to meditating and practicing combo moves most recently instead. As time passed with little to no improvement, both eventually agreed now was the time for them to search for others to spar against while still maintaining their regular training routine together. Yet, of all the people Izumo picked to spar against, Shiemi hadn’t thought it would be Shima.

“Why him?” Shiemi had asked her. She tilted her head to the side and squinted against the high afternoon sun.

Izumo had turned to her, and Shiemi couldn’t help but notice that her new haircut suited her nicely as the shorter violet-mahogany locks were whisked into little wisps by the breeze. Even the kitsune spirit foxes Uke and Mike, who had constantly criticized Izumo, approved of the forward-angled bob hairstyle she sported, even going as far as to call her “almost cute.” Silver teardrop bauble earrings swung with nearly every movement of her slim neck.

Izumo’s garnet eyes had narrowed in distant thought, seeming to grasp at an elusive or perhaps reluctant explanation. Shiemi could see the pain that Izumo fought to hide in them, along with regret and some other strange emotion she couldn’t decipher—pride, maybe? Anger?

“Because,” the dark-headed tamer had begun at last. “I won’t let what happened last time I fought him happen again.”

With that said, Izumo had swirled swiftly back around and left, ignoring the pitying gaze that bored into her back.

Shiemi had silently wished her female companion good luck, before, she, too, had turned back towards her house to settle in for the night.

Shima was a logical choice for other reasons. His black fire, for instance, was like the power many demons would wield against exorcists. Shima also needed the extra training, what with Yamantaka constantly artificially boosting his physical strength, leaving Shima’s base state without any enhancements weak, which, in turn, left him vulnerable. When the double-agent wasn’t taking tips from Bon on body-building, he had free time to spar.

Rin would have been a good option as well, though. He also had a lot of leisure time between his own personal training and “studying” for classes. Even better, he and Izumo had gotten a lot closer as of late. Yet, there was a problem in asking Rin to be her sparring partner that went beyond her own personal emotional soup she shared with Shima that needed sorting through (and what better way than to beat the crap out of the creep?).

The reason Izumo hadn’t chosen Rin was partially out of respect for Shiemi’s feelings, which Shiemi would fervently deny having despite Izumo being observant of every minute piece of body language which would say otherwise; Izumo would also vehemently rebuff having anything to do with wanting to protect Shiemi and the reluctant friendship Izumo had struck up with her.

Besides that, Izumo and Rin had come to be confidants in one another. They had bonded platonically after Shiemi had become somewhat distant in her interactions with the half-demon due to her trying to figure out her feelings for him. She had become so awkward and shy around him as of late, Rin had turned to Izumo for help. One thing led to another, but eventually they became like siblings as Yukio, too, began to grow distant from Rin in his duties to the Knights of the True Cross as an exorcist and in his continuous search for answers to his and Rin’s past.

Rin had told Izumo about his feelings for Shiemi, and out of respect for their close friendship, too, Izumo opted to let Shiemi ask Rin about spending such intimate time together.

Then again, Izumo, with that same loyalty to Shiemi, had refused to outright tell Rin about the blonde girl’s reciprocating feelings, but she dropped many a hint, usually when Rin was feeling down on himself and agonizing over his poor choice of words regarding trying to avoid making Shiemi feel awkward by revealing his overwhelming feelings for her. Although, Izumo had once revealed some small details about Shiemi’s evolving talents and blossoming personality to him that many didn’t see outside of class, and to Rin’s credit, he listened with apt attention.

The change was partially because Shiemi had expanded the exorcist supply shop business with the help of Konekomaru’s tech savviness and her own mother’s willingness to share supplies and to endorse her products, which were targeted toward regular human girls that were plagued by the new increase in small-fry demons and particularly female exorcists fighting in the field.

From all-natural makeup; demon-repellant perfume; anti-demon phone charms and jewelry; to purifying bath salts, bath bombs, soaps, scrubs, and balm. Shiemi manufactured it all and packaged it all with the support of her friends backing her growing confidence.

Izumo and Paku had happily tested the products with glee. Izumo’s own earrings came from Shiemi’s collection, along with her blackberry lip gloss and orange-tulip nail polish. Paku had opted for the herbal phone charm and purifying bath products herself, claiming she would take all the demon repellent she could get if it meant keeping the pests away.

With her money, she stowed a sufficient percent away in her savings for a future that would benefit from the funds, but most significantly she longed for a cell phone to contact her friends and customers with; the problem was buying one and maintaining the phone plan, which she would need to pay for every month. But for the remaining cash she didn’t invest, she bought supplies and a few new casual outfits for going to informal social functions and some training gear and clothes with the help of Izumo and Paku, who happily provided Shiemi with some fashion advice in exchange for receiving free samples of her products and endorsing them to others.

The success and the positive changes brought on by it did wonders for her self-esteem—and her desire to take pride in her appearance. Shiemi dabbled in makeup and tried different clothes for her interactions outside of home, mostly for her own growth and exploration, to get her mind off things with Rin, but also, ironically enough, to draw Rin’s attention. As much as she struggled to interact anymore with him, Shiemi craved his closeness more than ever. The confidence she gained as a result slowly put her back at ease with Rin—at least enough to ask him a favor.

* * *

 

It was a week ago. They had stood there in the dimly-lit hallway outside of their cram school classroom, his back to her, shoulders squared against the red sleeve holding his demon katana slung across them. His hands had been in his pockets and his hair askew as usual as he’d stalked along the familiar polished floors. She’d fumbled, unsure of what to say, twisting her skirt in her trembling hands while Nee-chan had tugged gently on a strand of blonde hair framing her face, quietly urging her to speak.

“Rin?”

Despite her trepidation at asking Rin for help, she'd figured he'd be the best person to train with—his techniques were the closest to the sort of attacks she was training to fight against: that of demons’. He was also the most available out of all the people she knew besides Shima, who had already agreed to train with Izumo, and Konekomaru, but his fighting style did not work well in a sparring environment against her own. Bon was busy with his apprenticeship and training with Lightning, and Yukio was as distant as ever.

And, well, besides the practicality of it, Shiemi also wanted to spend more time with him.

Rin had turned to look at her in pleasant surprise at her utterance, giving her his full attention, a light of curiosity sparking in his royal blue eyes. He hadn't seemed to take notice of her inner turmoil at that moment. "Shiemi? What is it?"

_Rin wouldn't go soft on me,_  Shiemi had thought. Rin would understand and take it easy enough on her, but challenge her without holding back too much.

Her bottom lip had begun to shake under the weight of his stare and her eyebrows pulled in together, creasing her forehead. Her legs had gone numb and her fingers tingled strangely. She had heard Nee-chan chittering in her ear quietly, trying to tell her something that she could only assume was meant to give her confidence or to soothe her, but she hadn’t been able to process any of it.

“Shiemi?” Rin had tilted his head and taken a cautious step toward her.

_No!_  She had pursed her lips stubbornly in rebellion at her abashed nature and bowed her head abruptly to hide her strained expression.

"I want you to help me get stronger! Will you train with me?!" Ah geez, she hadn't meant to shout, but she was just so caught up in her feelings she didn't really notice.

Rin had stared at her in amazement, but had soon enough found himself giving her a full, toothy smile. "Of course!”

The blonde's head had perked up at that, and she'd met his eyes at last. She had squeaked at the expression she'd found that appeared soon afterwards on his face.

"Of course," Rin had added. He was going to feel terrible for doing this later, but for now Rin had wanted to have some fun with this while he was at it. "There is a price."

"H-huh? W-what price is that? I can get you some herbs and vegetables for cooking or something…if that's what you want…" Shiemi had stammered, confused.

"I’d like that actually! But not for the favor. Nah, as tempting as that is…I want to make a bet."

"A bet?"

"Yeah. If you win, you get to take me to the carnival. But if you lose…" An ominous look had unexpectedly loomed over his face. "Then you have to give me a foot rub."

She'd shivered at the words, but it wasn't so bad a proposition. After all, it couldn't be so terrible to massage someone's feet. And Rin's couldn't possibly be too horrible…

Of course, it would be so fun to take Rin to the carnival and eat cotton candy and ride on the amusement park rides…

It hadn't really occurred to her that the rascal probably set it up so that he got an award either way. However, Rin had made the deal so that it was a more pleasant award to share the fun between them should she win and so Shiemi'd overlook that fact. Besides, she'd always wanted to go to a carnival while there were other people around, but she couldn't possibly go alone. And anyways, had she known what Rin's plan was, or heard his guilty thoughts, she would have forgiven him with ease. She was mostly in this for the training.

Right?


	3. come a little closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains descriptions of an explicit sexual situation, i.e. masturbation.
> 
> So this might bump the rating up a little more due to its content possibly. I'll keep it at mature for now since I'm not actively describing any pelvic genitals or graphic imagery, as well as because it's not in there for merely the sake of fan service. It's there to demonstrate the growth and sexuality of the characters, and this growth is relevant to the plot.
> 
> This chapter's title is from the artist Cage the Elephant and their song "Come A Little Closer."

Eyes like coins glinted in the darkness. Their brass color flashed in their movement, shifting as uneasily as the man who bore them.

When he looked at her and saw those fierce celadon eyes, he remembered the time when he’d taken her into the forest, black talon fingernails like pincers poised to pinch into her socket and pilfer what precious green gems lay there. His fingers twitched with the memory like an itch waiting to be scratched. 

When he looked at her face, he remembered saying those impromptu words as a mock human marriage oath, but he had taken taking her as his bride surprisingly far from calling her his to his grotesque version of a kiss, peeling his lips back over his teeth, long tongue unfurling from his maw. He licked his lips at the thought of it. 

She had so much potential. The earth was akin with her, its power warm while it grew and expanded inside of her, filling her with its nature as she nurtured it. 

She and his little brother, Rin, were alike in their elements. Fire and earth lent their hands to growth, heat, creation and destruction, a cycle of rebirth, life, this need to overwhelm and devour, a purifying quality, this antagonistic relationship with water. 

The girl hummed while she worked in her garden and did her chores. She would sing and talk to the flora and fauna while she tended to them. She giggled when butterflies landed on her. She was kind and courteous to the creatures that wandered inside the boundaries of her garden, giving them space and scraps of food and crumbs of herb cookies. She left petite teacups and small porcelain bowls of water out for them.

He was inevitably drawn to her, the way her ever-growing hair tentatively brushed her shoulders, the way her eyelashes whispered over her very green irises and ghosted her cheeks like dark gold wisps, the way she let dirt find her legs and dresses uncaringly, the way her bare feet softly tread the paths between beds of plants, her pale toes sinking reverently into the rich, dark soil starkly. The way she lovingly drizzled the sprinkling spout of her watering can in patterns over the leaves, taking them between forefinger and thumb and gently brushing the beads of dew over them. The way she stirred her fertilizer with her hands, kneading it and either some lime or sulfur into the soil depending on the conditions with an observant eye.

Sometimes he’d stick around until nighttime and watch her emerge from her bath, glowing and pink, clad in a satin nightgown that left little to the imagination with her generous, plump bosom braless as it was. He’d silently follow each movement as she squeezed pale lotion out in puddles and streams over her skin and massage the lightly fragrant moisturizer into her flushed flesh – goat’s milk and honey, he discerned by scent. He was mesmerized by her, he found, to his unhappy surprise.

A part of it was carnal lust, plain and simple. He’d discovered this one night when he’d stayed especially late, long after she had finished rubbing on her body lotion and slipping into bed after turning off all the lights.

She’d left her window open, and, curious, Amaimon had gotten closer for a better view. He alighted on the windowsill, careful not to make a sound. He made sure her eyes were closed before he felt safe to shift inside, minding any potentially creaking floorboards, making his way to her bedside.

There was another scent lingering beneath that of her lotion, but he wasn’t sure what it was. It made his nose itch, but not unpleasantly; the scent itself was primal and musky, something that spoke of heat and desperate need. It was a scent that he’d smelled on many others before, but never on this girl, and never quite this strong, though he supposed that was partially because he was standing so close to her.

He’d positively gawked when, eyes still closed, the girl had wriggled in bed, tangling herself in her sheets, muttering, before giving a sigh of something like resignation, before he watched her shoulder rotate, her elbow tent and fold the blankets around her, and her hand formed a small, squirming pocket over her pelvis under the covers.

The smell of her need had grown and the scent of her arousal would fill his nostrils. A soft squelching had met his ears, and it was then that he’d come to himself. Her own muted vocals had joined the rhythm of her fingers, causing his heart to thump deeply in his chest, blood thrumming through his body and pooling low, low, low…

It wasn't until she had satisfied herself before he could make himself move.

* * *

 Amaimon brought a hand to his head, shifting his fingers through his newly shorn hair from their dark olive roots to their chartreuse tips. Smoothing his locks up and back from his face soothed him somewhat, though the cut was still much of an unfamiliar one to him and always gave him small pause now. He frowned, remembering the advice his elder brother had given him upon sharing his growing feelings for the one Shiemi Moriyama.

Mephisto had shrieked a high, gleeful laughter with a dark edge to it, one that if the demon earth king hadn't known any better, was a sardonic sort of bitterness.

"So, little brother," the headmaster had said with a wry glint in his green eyes. "You believe you fancy a girl, then?"

At Amaimon's lack of response, Mephisto had continued on with a knowing tone. "Ah, and you don't want to have these feelings, is that it? Ah, but love is such a wonderful emotion! All the humans rave as much about it!"

"Humans are weaklings," he'd finally responded. "And I will not be weak."

The king of time watched in bemusement as Amaimon's gaze grew sinister, his golden irises burning brilliantly in the shadows that overtook his eyes. Mephisto sensed the younger demon's mood plunging into a more lethal one.

"Then get over her," Mephisto had said flippantly. He turned on his heel, but could just as well picture the growing ominous atmosphere gathering around Amaimon faster at his older brother's remark. "Why don't you start fresh with a change? They say that can help one forget about a crush."

Amaimon's murderous aura had quickly dissipated, but annoyance clearly lined the periphery of his confusion. "A change?"

"Yes," Mephisto turned his head slightly to the side to glance at his little brother. He'd regarded him thoughtfully. "Perhaps your appearance. A haircut, maybe. I could have my stylist, Fabio, do it for you, or I myself could, if you prefer."

"...seriously?" Amaimon's voice had been as close to incredulous as one as monotone as he could be. 

"Why not?" Mephisto had grinned, clearly enjoying the idea. "It's about time for a change of pace, right? What's the harm in humoring my suggestion, eh?"

"You'll make me look stupid," the younger demon immediately negated with a scoff. "Like you," he'd added.

"What?!" Mephisto feigned hurt. "How dare you say such a thing to your kind and thoughtful older brother! Why, I gave you a place to live, a home, food, shelter, I clothed you..." 

Amaimon had stood there in Mephisto's office before his brother as the man rambled on with a blubbering face while Amaimon picked his ear with his pinky and scratched the skin of his ear canal before withdrawing it, absently flicking away the stuff that had built up under his jagged fingernail.

Noting what had just taken place, Mephisto had shrieked louder. "Why you little-! Did you just flick ear wax onto my beautiful carpet?! You ungrateful-!"

"If I decide to take your advice," Amaimon had then said, interrupting the man, "then I would want you to do it."

Mephisto had absolutely beamed then, his eyes starry. He'd clasped his gloved hands together and tilted his head to rest his cheek on them. "You mean it? You'll let your elder brother make his baby brother cute?"

"So long as you don't make me look ridiculous," Amaimon had amended, watching with trepidation as Mephisto skipped forward to lean in close to the younger one's face, analyzing his features with a keen eye, thumb and forefinger forming a crook with which he framed his sharp pale chin.

"Worry not, little brother," Mephisto had assured him, finally pulling back and withdrawing scissors, a comb, and an electric razor from seemingly thin air. With a snap of his fingers, Mephisto had Amaimon wrapped in a black cape which swept across his front and seated in a reclining barber's chair, dipping his green head back into a polished sink with the faucet running warm bubbling water down the younger demon's scalp. Disoriented as Amaimon was from the abrupt flip of position, Mephisto's face at last came into view, and the younger demon noted that his brother now wore a short, black nylon apron and black-framed glasses perched upon the narrow bridge of his nose.

"I believe I have a suitable style in mind," Mephisto had said and set to work on Amaimon's hair in quick fashion.

When the violet-haired demon had finally pulled Amaimon's black smock off  and spun him around in a flourish to face the mirror to see his new haircut for himself, Amaimon was silent. He stared at his reflection critically, taking in the casual, short olive mohawk he'd received. He didn't mind it, he concluded, observing the technique in which Mephisto had managed to keep the style neat and modern while also maintaining the prominence of one of Amaimon's more marked spikes of hair at his crown. New flurries of smaller spikes now joined it, as if keeping the original proverbial company.

"Well?" Mephisto had prompted, grinning widely at his younger brother's reflection in the mirror.

"I don't hate it," Amaimon finally said, having loathed the idea of praising or thanking the man who had at one point tortured him in glee within the confines of the king of time's cuckoo clock. They could get along as allies, sure, and Amaimon would always respect the man for his sheer power, and no, he would never blame the older demon for what he did, but the earth king had his pride to maintain at the very least if nothing else.

Mephisto had pouted, but then resumed his grinning when Amaimon slowly stood from the black pleather stool, the younger demon's gaze never straying far from his own reflection.

* * *

His eyebrows knitted together, and he crouched lower into the shadows of the clock tower. From his hair, he removed his wandering hand and brought his thumbnail to his teeth in a gentle bite. His tapered ears flicked absently as he pondered his situation.

He’d watched them fight, his younger half-brother and the human girl. The preamble had been lackluster at best with the clumsy human panicking much too early on for his taste, but Amaimon had become quite captivated when the action had reached a pivotal moment for his little bride, and like a switch that had been flipped, the girl, too, had taken full advantage, and like that, she’d turned the tides in her favor.

Her summons had seemed to bloom from thin air between pumpkin vines threading the ground like patchwork, tangling and writhing like snakes underfoot of Amaimon’s unfortunate little brother; _sakura_ petals peppering the breeze and swarming across Rin’s skin with edges like knives they shot by so fast; fungi that emitted noxious gas; to the brilliant shield that Shiemi had procured as a last-ditch effort. This last one had impressed him with its amount of power and flexibility, especially considering how much of her power it had sucked up to materialize – it surprised Amaimon that she even had that kind of reservoir in the first place, let alone enough even after expending nearly all of her energy.

He conceded that part of his newfound hobby of observing the girl was his curiosity at her growing strength. He admittedly was fascinated with the power unfurling itself inside of her, slowly at first, but had gradually sprouted faster and faster, compounding and multiplying in speed.

When Amaimon had first lain eyes on her, the thing inside her had been but a residual seedling, curled in upon itself, lying dormant. It’d been before his elder Mephisto had let slip the names of his pawns he’d planned on enlisting into the exorcist cram school and needing the assistance of Amaimon to borrow one of his own earth-affiliated kin. The demon earth king had obliged out of boredom mostly, but had been suspicious at the sight of the hidden power inside of the girl.

He’d almost forgotten about it until he’d joined Mephisto in the forest when the cram school students had camped out with his other, less interesting half-brother and the sherbet-haired wench of an exorcist. It was there, in the darkness when the _Chuchi_ moths had swarmed her and lain their eggs in the nape of her neck, that he realized that the seedling had awakened into something more – a bud. It reacted violently under the stress of the parasites digging their way to her spinal cord, but it was still too young and weak to do much to combat the foreign bodies invading her system. 

It was from there on out that he kept a keen eye on the latent power within her. And it was after a while of this observing that he noticed something odd.

Each time the human girl interacted with two particular individuals, the power reacted and grew. He came to this conclusion after watching her attend cram school classes and spying on her in his homeroom class in the regular academy. It was with frustration that he noticed no correlation at all – the power grew nonetheless, but mysteriously less so when the girl stayed home on the weekends.

It wasn’t until he’d attended behind the scenes to a few of her training sessions and studying breaks that he’d noticed a pattern with these two other people. Amaimon deduced the power grew around himself and these two others because of their one common trait: demonic heritage.

And it so happened that those two individuals were Izumo Kamiki and Rin Okumura.

* * *

Rin and Shiemi arrived at the Okumura brothers' dormitory thoroughly soaked from the rain, and though at first the cool water had refreshed them from the sweat, blood, and dirt that was caked into their skin to form a sludge-like ooze, the storm's freezing droplets quickly became a nuisance once it had washed away most of the filth and sank like ice into their flesh as the savage wind buffeted harshly against them and whipped yet more rain onto them.

The both of them shivered once Rin withdrew the dorm keys from his pocket and unlocked the front doors that led inside. He ushered Shiemi in before following her, taking care to shut the door behind him and re-locking it once more, if for nothing else than out of habit.

Once inside, they took the stairs to reach Rin's and Yukio's shared dorm room to pick out a pair of fresh warm clothes to climb into after each took a shower, as suggested by Shiemi, who looked slightly more bedraggled than Rin, out of her own wishes to keep her mother from worrying about the state of her appearance should she not thoroughly wash most of the grime off.

Rin agreed, and took his time in fishing out fresh white towels from a supply closet near the laundry room. He'd brought his own and Yukio's little shower caddies along, and proceeded to shove his caddy into her arms, blushing quite a bit and avoiding eye contact while clutching Yukio's to his side.

"You can use my stuff to wash up. I doubt Yukio will mind too much if I use his. It's not like he'll notice or anything."

The last part was muttered almost angrily in a huff, but Shiemi heard it nonetheless. She reached forward, and, much as she had earlier, gently cupped the side of Rin's face in a barely-there gesture while giving him her softest of smiles.

It was meant as a motion of comfort, but Rin blushed heavier despite himself.

"Thank you, Rin," Shiemi said, her voice conveying a light sweetness meant only for him.

"...y-you're welcome," Rin managed to say, cursing himself for how weak his voice came out. His eyes slid to Shiemi's hand, and he cursed himself harder for wanting to press his own hand atop of hers to push it fuller against his warm cheek.

 Following his gaze, Shiemi realized Rin was uncomfortable with the contact, and quickly dropped her hand, reddening in shame at her own bold and thoughtless action. _Of course_ , she thought. _I totally misread the situation earlier. I'm so stupid!_

Again, Rin found himself mourning the loss of the warmth of Shiemi's small but capable hand on his face. _Idiot!_ he berated himself. _Of course she doesn't like you that way. Earlier was just a fluke! You can't take advantage of her innocent little gestures. She doesn't mean anything by them other than concern for her_ friends. _Why can't you see that?_

Looking at Shiemi's face, Rin saw a trace of sadness behind her features.  _Damn it. Did I hurt her feelings?_ He subconsciously clenched his fists and his jaw, a small muscle popping and twitching as he did.

Shiemi, for her part, noticed Rin's tense state, and began to clutch her towel and the borrowed clothes tighter to her chest such that she was subtly shifting into a defensive stance. She shifted her feet and turned with her back to Rin, feeling awkward about the whole exchange and wanting to escape to the showers where she could have her thoughts in peace.

Suddenly, Rin's hand was clasping her shoulder. She could feel the warmth of it through her tattered training top and forced herself to refrain from shivering at the contact.

"Shiemi," Rin said in a clear tone. She turned her head to look at him curiously. "I had fun today. I look forward to next time," he grinned.

Shiemi found herself smiling wide at those words. "Mm," she nodded. "Me, too."

Rin reluctantly pulled his hand away from her and watched as she walked to the girls' showers with a renewed bounce in her step. Always so cute.

He turned and did the same, but there was a desperation in his steps as he made his way to the boys' side, silently thanking whatever gods there were up there that Shiemi had not fully turned around when he'd initially grabbed her shoulder and realized too late that the fabric had been torn in the fight, and so found his palm making direct contact with Shiemi's soft glowing skin. He'd discovered a moment later that his thumb had inadvertently brushed against what he could only assume was the strap to her sports bra.

Comforting his friend came first, though, and he found himself saying the words that he needed Shiemi to hear easily because he'd been caught up in the moment. It was only when she had smiled back at him that the implications came rushing back to him, and again, for the second time that night he'd felt blood rush downwards and his whole body thrummed with his own heartbeat. 

* * *

Rin switched the handle far to the side for a scalding hot shower. He was alone, and he was going to take advantage of that.

He imagined his earlier fantasy of ending the training match early and pinning Shiemi to the soft earth beneath him, his thumbs tracing a line from the center of her palm to her inner wrists, where Yukio had taught him how to feel someone's pulse. He would feel hers throbbing wildly as he would lower himself over her, pushing his hard flat chest to meet her soft one. His hands would move to her hair, and hers would do the same, cupping the nape of his neck like she had when she'd found him lying on his back toward the end. Rin's hips would roll over hers, hesitantly at first until Shiemi would feel the stiff press of his member against her, and she would rock her own pelvis in reciprocation, gasping his name in surprise at the sensation.

His hands would move again, one to the shoulder with the torn sleeve where the skin lay exposed and vulnerable, his thumb hooking under the strap and yanking it down over her shoulder, his blunt nail lightly scratching a line over her shoulder blade, the other to go under her neck, trailing heavy fingertips down her spine, caressing each notch and dip with an almost massaging motion before pressing his palm into the soft give of her lower back and hips, gripping her love handles and adjusting her position to fit herself more openly against him. He'd feel the heat of her through his athletic training pants, speaking her name like it was a reverent prayer to the gods themselves.

Shiemi would squirm against him, her form-fitting top riding up her stomach and back, and Rin would feel her warm bare skin against the calluses on his palm and the soft underside of his wrist.

He orgasmed then, coming back to himself in the shower as he squinted against the hot spray of water against his face, his eyes roving blankly from the drain to the plain white tile under the chrome showerhead while riding the afterglow, his brain buzzing pleasantly with thoughts of nothing at all. 

After a few more breaths, Rin snatched a bottle of Yukio's body wash and squeezed out a generous amount into his hand. He began vigorously scrubbing his body down, attempting to calm his thoughts as he lathered the soap harshly against his skin. He vaguely registered that the stuff smelled of pine and wondered if Yukio had chosen it for the scent or the price. Now that he thought about it, Rin could recall smelling it faintly beneath Yukio's aftershave whenever his twin was nearby, often brushing past without a single glance in Rin's direction. Bastard refused to even so much as acknowledge him!

Rin scoured his scalp with punishing fingertips using the clinical brand his brother used to prevent dandruff, its peppermint scent eliciting a pore-opening sensation that danced across his follicles. Rin didn't mind the feeling as he then became much more gentle, massaging his head with small circles before rinsing it all out. Feeling refreshed and a little better, he decided he'd indulge in the matching conditioner - _since you're never around to even use it that much_ , Rin thought snidely, his grip clenching the bottle a little too hard and accidentally squirting out too much but deciding to use it anyhow. There was no use wasting it.

He stepped out of the shower and brought the towel to his face and began to dry off, his mind wandering to other things that had been bothering him lately. Bon was much like Yukio had been of late - busy and distant. Bon had been detached lately from their group in how he answered every beck and call of that famous exorcist - what was his name again? Ludwig? Right hand? What a dumb name if it was! - and while Rin supposed that was to be expected, what with Bon being the man's apprentice, it was starting to feel lonely in their cram school class with his constant absences. Between him and Shima, that left poor Konekomaru by himself out of the Kyoto Three.

And speaking of Shima, the pink-haired son of a bitch, always mysteriously slipping off unexpectedly and just as quietly jumping back in, as if he'd never been gone. Rin suspected this was for Shima's spy duties, but that didn't mean he liked it. Whether or not he trusted the boy was irrelevant. Sometimes it was hard to get over that bitterness he'd felt when the Illuminati agent had kidnapped Izumo and essentially re-traumatized her. Rin disliked that Shima, needing to keep the facade that he was still on the side of the Illuminati, had to report True Cross's activities to Lucifer's organization. Plus, the guy seemed like he knew something about Yukio that no one else did, which especially pissed Rin off. 

What was going through his brother's mind? Why was he acting so distant and cold to everyone around him? Why was he so obsessed with the past and their heritage? What did that have to do with anything now? They knew all that they already needed to know to move forward. 

It had scared him when they'd gone to rescue Shura and Yukio had ad libbed that spiel about wanting more power. Now that he thought more about it, that dialogue had seemed so earnest despite its real intention. Was he speaking from somewhere deep inside of him that secretly wanted more power? Why did he need it? Yukio was already so strong, so smart. His younger brother had seemed so against Rin using his demonic powers to fight, yet wasn't Yukio being just as hypocritical if he wanted that same power?

Rin sighed, pausing in his movements, eyes on the ground and brow furrowed. All he wanted in that moment was to understand his twin and help him in whatever way he could to get through his pain.

But that would not happen. Not now, anyway.

He dressed in the clothes he'd picked out for himself - a T-shirt that he never wore outside of his room because of the image of a tiny person wearing a bunny suit that zipped up in the back boldly emblazoned on the shirt's front, prostrating desperately before three other figures. It was a favorite mangaka's persona, an author whose work he enjoyed and which was an embarrassing gift given by Shura after they'd arrived home from Shura's homeland. Rin quickly threw the shirt on and slipped into his dark gray sweatpants and socks, eagerly shoving his feet into the thin indoor slippers before exiting the locker room. He shook his head, ridding his mind of all of these negative thoughts and focusing on the present situation and his female friend.

He was curious to see how Shiemi fared in showering with his things. What did she look like wearing his clothes? He liked to have bet that she looked cute as usual, but he was nervous in just what she would say about them. Would she like his clothes? Would they fit her alright? They wouldn't smell too bad would they? They were fresh from the laundry, but one never could know if someone else had a different preference for detergent until that someone else really truly smelled one's clothes.

Oh fucking hell, what if she was allergic to the detergent? He hadn't thought of that, and, shit, what if she broke out into hives and went into epileptic shock? What was he supposed to do then? He wasn't a doctor for fuck's sake; that was Yukio's department and Yukio wasn't here.

Or what if she was allergic to something in Rin's soaps? What if she were lying there in the shower, passed out from her airways closing at the bottom of the shower, drowning in the water? Fuck, that would  _not_ be good. She could be dead - !

Rin paced anxiously outside of the girls' shower rooms and came to the shaky conclusion that if she wasn't done in five minutes, he'd shout for her to make sure she was okay, and if there was no reply, he'd wait another minute before shouting again and warning her he would be barging in. There. That soothed him enough to calm down, yet his eyes watched the clock on the hallway wall closely and his ears twitched while he listened for any sound outside of the shower running and failed to sense anything else amiss.

It later turned out he needn't have worried when the sound of the handle squeaked as it was switched off and the water ceased to run slightly after four minutes had passed. He heard wet footsteps slapping against the tile as Shiemi exited the shower and began to dry herself off.

Rin waited two minutes more before he saw her emerge from the girls' locker rooms dressed in his clothes, and he felt his chest hitch nervously as he took her in.

Yes, he needn't have worried about the detergent or the soap, for that was not the anxiety that plagued him now upon observing her, and he suppressed the urges that bubbled up in him at her attractive appearance and the wave of possessiveness that awoke upon seeing her in Rin's sweater and a pair of boxer shorts, hair swept up in a small bun and a borrowed hair clip of Rin's pinning her bangs back from her face, a pink flush ghosting her flesh from the warm shower, the cool pools of crystalline jade that were her eyes shining brightly under the fluorescent lighting on full display. He could see from his position across from her, what with his enhanced sight, that her long white-blonde eyelashes were tangled in the corners. She licked her lips before speaking, her lips plush and pink from moisture and a fresh sheen upon them.

"Rin," she said, smiling like everything was normal.

 _Why the fuck does she have to look so fucking_ hot _wearing my clothes?_


	4. fluorescent adolescent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess I'm back? Kind of? It's been years guys. I've been keeping up with the manga and trying to incorporate a lot of stuff that's been revealed there into here as I'm going. It's weird having to continually reference different key topics (pun fully intended) when there are only slightly over a hundred or so chapters. The world building is on a pretty complex scale considering where it was at previously when I first started writing this. There's a lull in my school work lately (I'm still in college, so that's fun, you know, but actually not) and I've been inspired so I started going back and revamping some stuff here and adding more there. I've been writing a lot of future content as the inspiration hits so I don't forget a lot of it, too.
> 
> Anyway, the song I picked this time is Fluorescent Adolescent by the Arctic Monkeys. I listen to a lot of music, but this old one from a few years ago seemed to fit the shenanigans in this chapter.

Her voice drifted past his ears and reverberated meaninglessly against the sides of his skull in little faint echoes that he was unable to process, so absorbed as he was in taking in her appearance.

It really wasn’t fair.

“Um, Rin?” Shiemi shifted, bringing her arms in close to her body and crossing them across her waist, her hands fisting starkly in the fabric of Rin’s black pullover. The action made her look even smaller than she already was, and those once ebullient eyes slid down self-consciously, and the sadness in them pulled Rin out of his reverie.

She had no idea what she did to him.

“Sorry, I was just…” he quickly put in, but trailed off when he realized he had no good explanation for the long-lingering gaze that was far too flagrant to be considered polite. He coughed.

“I’ve never worn boy’s clothes before.” She glanced up at him briefly before her brow scrunched down over her eyes. “Am I doing it wrong?”

“No, no, you’re totally fine.” He waved her concerns off, laughing a little too much to be inconspicuous, but it seemed to put her at ease as her posture gently opened back up to him. Some inspiration hit him a little too late, but he went with the shoddy justification in any case. “Actually I was just, kind of, I mean, checking how they fit! They seem a little big on you is all, but I think they work, don’t they?”

Thank the deities in heaven above, she bought it. Her smile returned, and she nodded enthusiastically.

“So, when did you want to call your mom?” There, his voice was steady. Of course, he wasn’t looking at her anymore either, already turned around and heading toward the staircase leading to his and Yukio’s room.

Rin heard her hurry to shuffle behind him. He frowned thoughtfully at her clumsy steps. She was wearing his thicker pair of black boot socks that he used for exorcist-related assignments when he and his classmates were required to wear the bright red lace-ups. On him, those socks were almost a little small, but on Shiemi they cleared her knees.

“Oh, I was planning on using my _Kamikakushi_ keys.” She was absently poking through the damp pile of clothes she had carefully wrapped in a towel as she spoke. “That’s weird, I thought—”

Shiemi let out a surprised gasp when she bumped into Rin’s chest. Before she could even bounce back from the impact, though, Rin’s quick reflexes had her pressed tight to him to keep her from falling.

The position was awkward and uncomfortable, and she had dropped her pile of clothes on the ground. She let out a defeated-sounding sigh as Rin loosened his hold on her and threw her an apologetic look.

“Sorry about that. Before we go any farther though, you should sit on the steps so I can roll up your socks for you,” he said, stepping away from her.

Shiemi’s eyes were on the floor where her laundry was. Yep, those were her bra and panties right at the top, crumpled but recognizable, innocently laid out before them. Her mind instantly blanked with sheer white panic.

“They’re your socks,” she said, not moving, gaze stuck on the floor. It was the only thing her frazzled mind could think of to say, focusing on an insignificant detail like it usually did when she got nervous. She cursed herself silently for the idiotic response.

“Right,” Rin agreed, slightly nonplussed. “Um, so if you could…?”

He trailed off, waiting for her to take her place on the steps.

“Oh, um, yeah sorry!” Shiemi scurried forward on her knees, swiping up her things as fast as possible and clutching them close to herself before Rin could see. “Just dropped my things. Do you think I could borrow your keys? Mine are missing.”

“Oh, sure. Here, let me help you,” he said, bending down and reaching out to one item of clothing.

“No!” Shiemi positively shrieked, leaping for the thing he’d been about to pick up. She quickly stuffed it deep into the pocket she’d created with her arms close to her chest.

Rin yanked his hand back like he’d been burned. He looked at her, taking note of her pursed lips and heavy blush consuming her face. The back of her neck was even red.

“My panties,” she said simply, quietly, almost like she didn’t want him to hear, yet had given him an explanation all the same.

But Rin had very good hearing due to his inhuman half, and he took an extra step back to give her some added room. His ears were searing hot, and he was positive that his face was simmering and steam was starting to rise from his skin where a sweat had suddenly broke out.

_Fuck!_ Would she believe him if he said that he hadn’t realized they were her panties? But of course they were, he realized, because what kind of clothing is that tiny and soft if they aren’t panties? Shit, he’d been so short-sighted on that one. But was it so bad if he had touched them? Was she disgusted by the idea?

“Oh, um, I’m sorry, sorry about that, I, um, I didn’t mean—I didn’t realize—” Rin scrambled for an excuse for his thoughtlessness, feeling more and more like an ass by the minute. His hand was rubbing the back of his neck raw, and his fingernails were scratching his scalp a little too harshly.

“That’s okay! I know you didn’t mean—um—that kind of, kind of thing.” She was standing up and bundling her garments in the towel before tucking them close to her front once more. She hid her face as she moved around him and took a seat a couple of steps up from the bottom, watching as he kneeled in front of her.

Would it have been so unwarranted of him to touch her underthings? Did the thought gross him out? Or make him uncomfortable?

Doubts were bombarding her thoughts and feelings—their actions from earlier out in the field…and their almost-kiss.

Had it really been a kiss he had been about to give her? Did he like her like that? If it had been a kiss, had it been one borne out of his feelings for her, or had it been a spur of the moment thing, where he’d been caught up in the fact that they were so close to one another?

Maybe if he did like her, was he scared of touching her body? Was the extent of her love and want for him something he didn’t return?

She hunkered down, feeling ashamed, and focused on Rin and his actions.

Which was a mistake.

* * *

 

Rin knelt on the floor before Shiemi, trying to concentrate on his task. He looked over both of her legs, unable to help himself from appreciating their shape hidden only slightly under the baggy fabric of his socks. He reached forward, grasping her around the ankle as gently as possible.

He quickly glanced up at her, silently asking for her consent before he did anything without her implicit approval.

Shiemi met his eyes and was suddenly reminded of the time when Yukio had examined her for _temptaint_ , a demon-inflicted wound, and had taken the heel of her foot and slowly swept the edge of her kimono aside to examine the damage to her legs that wouldn’t move like they should anymore.

It was also the first time she had met Rin. The memories that swarmed her brain of their first interactions had her smiling slightly, almost laughing at the way she’d accused him immediately of his heritage much too quickly and with far too much fear than he’d warranted at the time. His spitfire mouth had caught her off-guard, and his wariness in his begrudging help he’d offered in apology for breaking the garden gate had her warming up to him.

She remembered how her mother had been so frustrated and angry with Shiemi, and Shiemi had only responded with the natural indignation of a daughter seeking independence. She hadn’t wanted to believe Yukio’s diagnosis. She knew better than to talk to demons. She wasn’t stupid—she believed in the best of everyone, and would later be complimented on her empowering words of encouragement because she could see everyone’s potential and pushed them towards it.

Rin had been the voice of reason for her in that time. He hadn’t treated her with kid gloves or like she had been too delicate to reprimand, but neither had he spoken down to her like she was lesser than him. No, Rin had expressed his concern by questioning her motive for keeping her grandmother’s garden alive before he’d condemned her love of it. He’d wanted to understand her feelings because he’d seen that threatening her with fear over her declining health wasn’t even a blip on her radar.

Shiemi had seen in his eyes this echo of pain and regret that spoke of his own past and the empathy he held for her in that moment. Yes, he’d gone too far by smashing her plants. He had an inexcusable temper, but it almost always was rooted in a place of concern for others’ wellbeing. He’d barely known her, but in that moment, when she’d crawled across the ground and dirt was crested underneath her fingernails and smeared over her kimono, and her skin had scraped on the gravel path, and she’d sobbed about her beloved grandmother and _their_ garden, because yes, that was theirs, together, that’s all she had _left_ of her grandmother’s, it was all her grandmother had left behind for her, this memory of a garden that wasn’t really theirs anymore so much as it was Shiemi’s, alone, and Shiemi had met his eyes, and he hadn’t been just this strange boy who was destroying the one thing she had left—he was a lost soul finding another one just like him, and a bridge had latched across the way between them. It was understanding and empathy. It was a bond—it was a hand reaching out to keep her afloat before she sank too deep. He’d been showing her, albeit in a traumatic and altogether terrible way that he would later learn not to do again, that this obsession hadn’t been her grandmother’s intention. It hadn’t been Shiemi’s dream to be restricted to a small square plot of land when she had all the world to explore.

And he’d had his own epiphany when he’d looked into her desperate eyes, burning madly with crushed dreams and lost hopes exchanged for a skeleton life of redemption that would never, could never be met because they would forever remain unfulfilled and forever lacking something, always missing something—if they’d only done more, shown their gratitude in a better way, paid homage to the ones they’d wronged.

They had begun to learn together that guilt wasn’t a good reason for motivation.

* * *

 

He was captivated by that determined fire and curiosity in her gaze again. Rin’s hands seemed to move of their own accord as they abruptly gripped a little harder.

_She’s not like a doe with a broken leg_ , he mentally reminded himself with annoyance. _She’s not going to run away if I breathe wrong. Not anymore, at least._ Their first encounter at her grandmother’s garden flashed fondly through his mind, and his small smile appeared to match her nostalgic one.

He tore his eyes away from hers and brought them back down to his work, an almost casual air about him as he ran his hands over one of her legs, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thick fabric, pinching the loose stuff bunching around the back, pulling the cable-knit wool taut against her.

Her stomach flipped at the sensation of his callused hands pressing into her. Just these small touches made her second-guess herself. Did he know how he was making her feel doing this? But, no, he couldn’t—he wasn’t looking at her, and besides that, he didn’t feel that way about her, at least not to that kind of extent.

But by gods did his warm hands feel so nice wrapped around her calf.

“You said you couldn’t find your keys?” Rin asked. He raised a tentative gaze to make eye contact.

Her eyes were burning with something like content. Shiemi’s dark blonde lashes were lowered and darkening her irises to an emerald color, her eyelids drifting down in a soft bliss.

Her soft lips didn’t move so much as sigh. “Yeah,” came the lazy reply.

“Usually I keep mine on me, but I don’t feel them now that I think about it,” he babbled, bringing his eyes back to his hands and their work, hiding his flustered expression. _Concentrate_ , he berated himself. It didn’t help that his hands were essentially feeling up her legs. “I must have left them in my room.”

“You can’t feel them?” she asked, curious at his choice of words.

Rin paused briefly, again meeting her eyes, before ducking his head down to hide a smirk that she didn’t miss.

“Is that some private joke you have with yourself?” she asked, encouraged by his good humor.

She jumped a little when he hooked his two fingers around the top of the sock behind her knee, pulling it back quickly and making room for the rest of his fingers. She could feel him as he curled them against her, folding the excess fabric over and rolling the top down. His thumbnail scraped her, and she shivered.

“I wear them on a cord around my neck.” She was about to comment when he added, “Under my shirt.”

The image invaded her mind of him shirtless, a leather cord adorned by a pair of shimmering skeleton keys resting against his breastbone, framed between his pectorals, pointing down the line of his toned stomach, perfectly sculpted from training, where a “v” trailed up over the waistband of his pants like hands that wanted to run over his abs.

Before she knew it—and really before she was ready for it—he was done adjusting her socks for her.

He stood a little stiffly, a hand on his own knee for balance. Shiemi mirrored him, finding her feet and standing before him two steps up. She thought about teasing him with her newfound height advantage, but decided against it. She was already getting cold again and wanted to get home soon. There was this feeling that if Shiemi didn’t leave soon, she’d do something she’d come to regret later on.

“After you,” Rin nodded, beckoning for her to turn around so that he could follow behind. “You know the way, right?”

“Sure,” she said, attempting to conjure the memory of when she had last visited the twins. “Is Kuro around?” she asked almost absently, thinking of the black two-tailed cat who made for quite the familiar to Rin.

“Should be,” he said from not too far behind her. “Last I checked he was sleeping on my bed, but he has a tendency to wander off when he’s bored.”

Shiemi threw a glance over her shoulder at him, amused. “He’s like you, then,” she said, laughing a little.

Redness bloomed across Rin’s cheeks, and he turned his head quickly away from her, unwilling to meet her eyes. She giggled more then at his strangely indignant shyness.

“Can you blame him?” he muttered, shrugging a little in an attempt to keep an aloof air about him.

* * *

 

Okay, so he’d been staring at her ass. That hadn’t been his intention when he’d suggested she walk in front of him. He wanted to see if the socks slipped down at all, that was it, dammit! But he hadn’t been able to help himself when, after congratulating himself on a job well-done in getting the socks to fit better on her, his gaze had slid up the backs of her thighs ( _wow_ , that was a _lot_ of skin showing—she must’ve hiked the shorts up high to keep them from falling too much even with the elastic band) and ultimately right over her pert bottom. Gods, how his hands just absolutely twitched and itched to grab each cheek and squeeze—

Fuck, what was he thinking? This was Shiemi! Shiemi didn’t feel that way about him. She hadn’t consented to this ogling, and dammit, he was _not_ an outright pervert! He was better for shit’s sake.

He was her friend, not some random sick fuck from off the street. These thoughts weren’t warranted. Shiemi wasn’t some piece of meat he could manhandle. She was gentle and fierce and kind and beautiful. She was special.

She was Shiemi.

He needed to distract himself, and do it now before his eyes went to places that friends’ eyes shouldn’t stray to.

“You know, um,” he started awkwardly, running a hand through his hair, searching for an appropriate topic.

“Hmm?” She hummed to indicate she was listening.

“This isn’t actually the first time I’ve had to lend a girl clothing. Like Izumo,” he said, not entirely thinking his words through before he said them. “It’s not like she was wearing much though, so I didn’t really have a choice there.”

He froze just before he bumped into Shiemi’s back, abruptly realizing his mistake.

“Izumo?” she asked, standing still before him. She wasn’t looking at him, but Rin could see that the back of her neck was red from the blush that was surely consuming her face.

“W-Wait, sorry, that didn’t—that didn’t quite come out the right way.” He fought to keep control of the octave of his voice, which kept pitching dangerously high and betraying the panic evident beneath. “I meant, well, I mean, Izumo’s a really good friend, but—shit, this isn’t what I want to say at all, fuck, I mean, argh—!”

He stared at her back forlornly, scared by the silence that met him. Was she really this upset because of something so simple as her best friend, Izumo, hadn’t “told” her about her supposedly “illicit affair” with Rin? Maybe it was that _he_  hadn’t told Shiemi about it? Or was there something else he wasn’t getting?

It couldn’t be that she liked him, could it? Was he just misunderstanding all of the signals, and she really was attracted to him?

But in the end, the reason didn’t really matter. Shiemi was upset, and he had to fix that because she was his priority in that moment. He would figure out the mess with his emotions and deciphering social cues after he cleared up this mix-up. He would put his feelings aside for the time being.

“Hey? Shiemi.” He licked his suddenly very dry lips, eyes desperate. “Could you please look at me? It’s hard talking to your back. I—I can’t see your face.”

She seemed to take a deep breath because of the way her shoulders moved with it. He watched as a stray strand of white-blonde hair escaped her bun and refrained from reaching out and tucking it back under the hairband.

It was a moment before she finally spoke. “I can’t,” she said, and he hated the little quaver in her voice.

“Shiemi.” She let him take her shoulder and spin her around to face him. But her eyes were closed so tightly, and she couldn’t see the look of determination and regret fighting for dominance in Rin’s features.

Izumo’s face swam behind Shiemi’s eyelids in the dark, all of their interactions and the things Izumo had said, her look of indifference when Shiemi had suggested Rin for a sparring partner to Izumo initially, her words of encouragement to pursue her crush, albeit annoyed with Shiemi’s slow-moving progress in her love life.

Had the interaction between Izumo and Rin that Rin’s words hinted at been from a long time ago, before Izumo knew about Shiemi’s feelings for Rin? Or had it been a recent thing? The two of them were getting so close lately…

But no, it had to be a misunderstanding, right? Izumo wouldn’t do that…right?

Rin huffed, resigned to the fact that Shiemi refused to look him in the eye, or really anywhere at all besides the area behind her eyelids. “Listen,” he finally said after looking at her for a long moment. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean it like that. I worded it in a really terrible way, so that’s not your fault that you’re misunderstanding, but hear me out. It was when we were first starting out in cram school, around the time that you were trying to first be friends with Izumo and what’s-her-face—”

“Nori-chan,” Shiemi said to his unasked question, almost wanting to smile at his effort at being funny, but still refusing to open her eyes. “She went by Paku around you and the others.”

“Yeah, her. Anyway. But they were in the girls’ locker room and got attacked by ghouls, and I stepped in to help. You helped, too, remember?”

Shiemi nodded, recalling the fear she felt when she laid eyes on the scene, and the anxiety she felt when she saw how badly hurt Paku had been.

“Izumo felt really ashamed that she couldn’t control her familiars, so she ran off without even grabbing her clothes. She wasn’t really thinking straight. So I found her, told her to get over it, and gave her my shirt so she wasn’t walking around in her underwear anymore.”

There was a pregnant pause before she spoke. “Oh,” Shiemi said. “Okay.”

Her eyes were still closed.

“I know you thought for a minute there that your best friend hadn’t told you something important, but seriously, you don’t have to be so upset,” Rin griped, watching her flinch and condemning himself for it. She could correct him if he had it wrong, but it was better to assume that she was offended for not being trusted with her friend’s secrets than assume she had feelings for him. It came off as less self-conceited in his eyes if he was mistaken, at least. Still, he felt like an ass nonetheless. “Dammit, Shiemi, don’t be an idiot! Open your eyes already and look at me!”

* * *

 

_That’s not it_ , Shiemi thought. _You don’t get it, Rin. We definitely had a moment earlier, didn’t we? Outside?_

_Did I read too much into that after all?_

Or did it just not mean as much to him?

Rin’s hands were on her shoulders again, trying to pull her forward closer to him.

“You and her sound so much alike,” she said, as if she hadn’t heard him. “You’ve been so close lately that—I just, I didn’t know what to think, and I—”

She didn’t finish her thought, but then again she didn’t have to. Rin’s grip on her shoulders eased, and he gave her a sympathetic look that she couldn’t see.

“She’s just a good friend. She’s been there for me lately because Yukio’s been gone and I—” he swallowed a knot that was starting to form in his throat. He was trying to comfort Shiemi right then, not try and get himself upset. “She’s been there for me when no one else is,” he finished, feeling lame and inadequate.

Shiemi’s eyes flashed open, and, holy shit, no, were those tears? Oh shit, no, that’s not what he wanted, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ …

“I’m sorry,” she said so quietly, even Rin had to strain his ears to pick it up. “I didn’t mean to abandon you—”

“You were busy with the shop and your new business,” he cut in, trying desperately to console her. The raw emotion in her voice was painful for him to hear. He hadn’t been trying to make her more upset! But he wasn’t going to lie to her and say that Izumo meant nothing to him because that was a disservice to Izumo and to Shiemi, who he knew was genuinely happy for him whenever he became closer with their classmates.

“I’m _never_ too busy for my friends.” Shiemi shook her head, backing up onto the landing a step up from her previous spot. “I’m never too busy for you, Rin. _Never_.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding, not really sure what else there was to say. He eyed her warily, afraid that if he said anything else the tears would fall, and that was the last thing he wanted in that moment.

But the statement seemed to appease her.

“Okay,” she said, echoing his nod and smiling, wiping her tears away with a quick swipe of her forearm. She sniffed for good measure. “Rin!”

“Yeah?” He felt as if she were speaking to him rhetorically, but it didn’t really matter. He locked gazes with her. The grin she flashed at him made him feel light-headed. She was just so _radiant_ when she had that stubborn gleam in her eye and that wide smile adorning her face, her shoulders straightened in something like unspoken conclusion, like she’d just found the solution to all the problems in the world, and he believed her.

“I’m here for you.”

His heart hammered a little too fast at such a simple statement, and something he’d known beforehand nonetheless deep down. But there it was, that annoying organ reminding him that he was much too far gone to ever truly escape her grasp.

He loved her.


End file.
